Miss You Most at Christmastime
by Scribbler
Summary: A Ship Sailing fic. It's the first Christmas without Anzu. In a house of well meant but unwelcome holiday cheer, Yuugi can't decide if he'd rather remember or forget. At breaking point, he flees. Now his friends have to find him before it's too late.
1. A Partridge in a Pear Tree

**Disclaimer****:** Festively not mine.

**A/N****:** This started out life in 2004 when I heard the song after which it is titled – the B-Side, _Miss You Most at Christmastime_, from Mariah Carey's eponymous _All I Wants For Christmas Is You_ single. I'd recently written _A Ship Sailing Over the Edge of the World_ and this fic-idea was born as the lovechild of fic and song. It took until 2009 for me to actually start writing it, however, and until now to finish it. This has been a long time in the making. That said, don't expect miracles over the next twelve chapters, save the Christmas kind.

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_**Miss You Most at Christmastime**_

© Scribbler, December 2010.

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**1. **

_On the first day of Christmas,  
My true love sent to me,  
A partridge in a pear tree. _

* * *

There was nothing like a white Christmas, and this was _nothing_ like a white Christmas. It wasn't like any Christmas, white or otherwise.

"Yuugi?"

"Gah!" Yuugi's head jerked up. It also made sharp contact with the underside of the shelf. "Yowch!"

"Aibou, are you all right?"

"Peachy." He winced, partly from the bump, partly because he had bitten his tongue. The taste of blood filled his mouth. "Jutht peachy."

"Why are you talking like that?"

"Tradition."

"Excuse me?"

Feeling a bit mean despite the pain, Yuugi let it drop before a glib reply turned into one of those cultural clashes that sometimes sprang up between he and Yami. They were small and infrequent these days, but when they did occur Yami's fearsome pride could get in the way and then there would be hurt feelings all round.

To prevent further injury, Yuugi backed out of the under-stairs cubbyhole on his hands and knees. His backside hit something that prevented him going any further. Nothing fell on him, which was a good sign. Things were stacked so haphazardly in here that was a real possibility. Leaning all his weight on one hand, he reached back with the other to feel what was in his way.

"Yuugi, that's my kneecap. And that's my other kneecap."

"Would you mind moving them someplace else so I can get out of here? Otherwise I'm going to spend Christmas staring at these piles of junk."

"What junk? I thought you were looking for Christmas decorations."

"I was. I mean, I am."

"Why are you picking through 'junk' then?" Yami pronounced the word as other people might say 'dog turd' or 'lime-scale'. He hatred messiness, having an ordered mind designed for strategising and thinking up winning card combos under pressure.

"Apparently Grandpa's idea of putting stuff away isn't the same as everyone else's. I knew I should've taken over after Christmas, but he got all independent and wouldn't let me. Now I can't find _anything_."

"A state of affairs I would think you were used to."

"Not helping."

The kneecaps disappeared. Yuugi gratefully emerged. "Is he home?"

Yami looked down with arms folded. "No."

Yuugi bit back his irritation. Brevity was good in its place, but sometimes answers needed to be longer than a single word. He needed to know where Grandpa had stashed stuff. Being a packrat of the highest order, what he wanted could be anywhere. "Where is he?"

"He said something about –" Yami wrinkled his nose. "- out-of-date Christmas cake at the senior centre?"

Yuugi sighed. On the whole you couldn't tell most of Yami's knowledge of modern culture came from sharing Yuugi's own memories, but sometimes things still blindsided him. "It's an old joke. Christmas used to be compared with a woman's age. Cake shops always try to sell all their Christmas cakes before Christmas Eve, and any cakes left after that are considered old and disgusting. Women over twenty-five used to be called 'unsold Christmas cake' if they got to Christmas Eve and still didn't have a date for the holidays."

"Why twenty-five?"

"That used to be when it was weird for them not to be married already."

Yami looked sceptical.

Yuugi shrugged. "Like it said, it's an old joke. Things are different now. People don't use the phrase anymore."

"Why?"

"The average age for marriage has gone up, and it's not so unacceptable now for women not to marry at all."

"But Grandpa said –"

"Out-of-date Christmas cake. I know." Yuugi got to his feet and brushed bits of tinsel from his jeans. He had found a few decorations under the stairs, but not what he actually wanted. He picked up the box and began sorting through as he talked: red baubles, blue baubles, green baubles, a broken gold bauble and a silver one someone had drawn a smiley face on. He stared at it for a moment. "Grandpa's not exactly known for his political-correctness, Yami."

Yami didn't bother to deny it. He did, however, frown at the words themselves. "But you said the phrase is '_unsold_ Christmas cake' whereas Grandpa said –"

"Yami, how old are the women at the senior centre?"

His eyes registered comprehension. "I see."

Yuugi nodded. "Exactly. Grandpa is –"

"Gramps is cruising for chicks!"

Yami's head snapped around.

Yuugi sighed again. "Hello Jounouchi."

"Yo, dude."

"Come on in, why don't you?" Yuugi waved a hand that could have been dismissive, resigned, or both. He nearly dropped the box of baubles as a result. A few spilled onto the floor. Along with them went some novelty robins with real feathers stuck on their tails, plastic fruit covered in glitter and a little brown bird with only one eye. When had their decorations gotten so threadbare and kitsch? "Make yourself comfortable. Don't let the locked front door stop you."

"Thanks," Jounouchi said shamelessly. "Hey, you guys got any eggnog?" He was en route to the kitchen even as he asked.

"You know we do," Yuugi called after him. Yami had developed a love of the ready-made stuff. It was almost charming, the way he stalked supermarket aisles on grocery day, grumbling at the affront of being made to go, but sidle up close to Yuugi at the end and slide as many packets of eggnog as possible into the trolley before he was noticed.

"Cool. In the refrigerator, right?"

The front door shut. Jounouchi hadn't arrived alone.

Moments later a slightly pink face appeared around the doorframe. "Hey guys," Shizuka said breathlessly. "Merry Christmas."

Yuugi immediately broke into a smile – which faltered only slightly as a mass of blonde hair, long legs and attitude marched past, also towards the kitchen.

"Jounouchi! Get your ass back here and help with these bags!"

Shizuka winced. Yuugi winced. Yami just looked amused and went to rescue his eggnog while Jounouchi was otherwise engaged.

* * *

_To Be Continued …_

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	2. Two Turtle Doves

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* * *

**2.**

_On the second day of Christmas,  
My true love sent to me,  
Two turtle doves. _

* * *

"Sorry about that," Mai apologised later. "Jounouchi just needed a reminder of how to show true holiday spirit."

Jounouchi fingered the goose-egg-sized lump on the back of his head. Faint fingernail marks were still visible in the skin of his rapidly swelling ear. "Bah, humbug," he muttered sullenly. "A whole jar of humbugs, even."

Mai crossed one leg over the other. Though she wasn't wearing them indoors, she had braved the unseasonable warmth and elected to leave their apartment in her new winter boots. Consequently her stockings were damp with perspiration and crinkled at the knees. Despite this, she still pulled off an air of elegance that contrasted Jounouchi's impression of a down-and-out. His pants were torn at one shin, a back pocket was gone, the other hanging crazily from a single thread. Judging by the stains, those jeans had seen a lot of meals, and even more food-fights. It was a wonder Mai let him out in public. Not for the first time, Yuugi marvelled at how two such different people still managed to complement each other in the ways that counted.

Shizuka's outfit was like a mix of her brother and Mai. Stripy socks peeked from under the hems of well-used overalls, paired with a pink top probably bought from the children's department. She had never shed the slightly undernourished look that plagued her childhood and teen years. To look at her, you'd never think she was a medical student poised to graduate at the top of her class. She looked like something from those commercials for toys or cute stationary that had filled every television ad break since the end of November.

"You've done a great job decorating the shop, Yuugi," she said politely. "It looks really nice. None of the other stores on this street have put up nearly so many lights."

"He was up until late last night stringing them," Yami informed her. "And then restringing them when one of the bulbs broke."

Yuugi groaned at the memory. "Don't remind me. My arms still ache."

"I offered to help."

He leaned forward abruptly, ending the exchange. "I could manage."

They had gathered around the kitchen table, which was a bit of a squash since there were five of them and it was built for only four. Yuugi had dragged out one of the unfolding chairs from the garden furniture and grabbed a cushion from the couch. He continued playing Good Host by taking that chair for himself and laying out dishes of nibbles. Yami, straight-backed and somehow effortlessly regal through leather pants and a muscle top, gave the impression he was presiding over everything like some old-fashioned patriarch – until you noticed the eggnog jug was empty and the sugar cookies Shizuka had brought were all mysteriously gone from their plate.

Yuugi rested his face in his hands at the memory of searching up and down the entire string of lights for the one bulb that didn't work, painstakingly replacing it, accidentally smashing the replacement, searching for another, being unable to find the correct size, looking for a late night hardware store, sitting in the middle of the shop floor with the lights in his lap, and refusing to go to bed until he'd finished. It was less a case of festive cheer, more a case of bloody-mindedness by the end. Yet when he finally flipped the switch and lit up the Kame Game Store in a wealth of twinkling fairy-lights, it was all worth it. Alongside the fake snow motifs he'd stencilled across the windows and the banner inviting everyone to 'Have A Merry Christmas' the effect was not a little magical.

"So when are we gonna get to this tree?" Jounouchi demanded. "That _is_ why we came over. _Not_ just to empty your fridge and drink all your eggnog," he added with a glance at Mai, and then a pointed one at the empty jug. Yami brazenly didn't bat an eyelid.

Mai patted Jounouchi on the head. "Good boy. You're learning."

"Quit patronising me." He pushed her hands away, but was smiling as he said it. He briefly laced his fingers with hers, so quick and subtle Yuugi would have missed it if he hadn't been paying attention. Somehow it felt more significant than if they had lip-locked for ten minutes.

Yuugi's eyes dropped to the tabletop and focussed on a knot in the wood. He traced it with the tip of a finger, trying to act nonchalant but probably failing. "I haven't found all the decorations yet –"

"No problem." Mai didn't wait for him to finish. "We brought some with us, just in case you had another fairy-light fiasco."

"Fairy-light fiasco? Sounds like a racehorse," Jounouchi muttered.

"How did you –" Yuugi began.

"Your grandfather called us last night, around the time you started using the Swear Jar." Mai eyed Yuugi with something like concern, although there was admiration as well. "I didn't know you even knew _how_ to swear."

Yuugi kept his expression carefully neutral. He now thought he understood why Grandpa had absented himself just when Mai, Jounouchi and Shizuka were due to arrive. Grandpa _knew _why it had taken Yuugi so long to even look for the decorations this year, let alone get a tree and hang them. "It was a _lot_ of lights, and there was a drunk outside the hardware store who just _had_ to throw up as I walked by, and just _had _to hit my shoes …"

Yami raised an eyebrow.

_Why didn't you stop him?_ Yuugi wanted to know, but the mind link had faded years ago when they separated.

He sometimes felt like Yami's other half, but in a less literal sense than when their two souls shared a body. Yami's trip to the world beyond and subsequent return had severed their link, until only vestiges of what they had once shared remained. In some ways that was a good thing: the things he felt for Yami were entirely his, not a reflection of Yami's own emotions. Likewise Yami had come back to the mortal world because of genuine devotion, not simply a desire to protect Yuugi, as Yuugi had sometimes suspected when they were one. Sometimes, however, he longed for that deeper connection, if only so he could feel a chime of understanding pinging through even his best I'm-okay-really smokescreen.

The question stayed in his own head, until he looked away and continued pretending to agree when Mai suggested ways to arrange these new decorations she had brought into their home.

* * *

_To Be Continued …_

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	3. Three French Hens

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* * *

**3. **

_On the third day of Christmas,  
My true love sent to me,  
Three French hens._

* * *

"Jounouchi!"

"What?"

"Look out!"

"Huh? Aaargh!"

"I said look out."

"Yeah, ten seconds too friggin' late!"

"Quit complaining."

"Um, guys, this is really heavy –"

"Sorry Yuugi. Hey, Mai, how about some _real _guidance?"

"Left a bit."

"What?"

"Left! I said left!"

"My left or yours?"

"Look out, Big Brother!"

"You're going to drop it, you idiot!"

"I am n –" CRUMP! "_Fuuuuuck_!"

"Timbeeeeeer!"

"I don't think that's helping, Mai."

The crash resonated throughout the house. Likewise the cursing.

"I thought you said a plastic tree would be easier than a real one," Yami deadpanned. His eyes followed Jounouchi's progress as his friend hopped up and down the landing on one foot, holding the other with both hands.

"It is," Yuugi replied. "As long as you don't drop it on your foot while getting it out of the attic." He swung himself around to descend the ladder, then remembered something and disappeared from view again. It was probably a wise decision.

He could hear Mai and Shizuka on the stairs. They'd been in the kitchen doing something with dough and dried fruit. Yuugi hadn't asked for details. A lot of traditions were out of whack this holiday, some of which he couldn't face just yet.

Since he was ten years old, he had always been the one to make cookies at Christmas. He always dug up American recipes to follow, first from books, then from the Internet when his granffather finally got a modem. It had made for some interesting concoctions when the translations weren't very good: After-Dinner Mint Cookies that burned the mouth; Ambrosia Macaroon Cookies that blocked every throat with too much syrup; Chocolate Kringles that exploded inside the oven; Lemon Meringue Cookies that exploded _outside _the oven, plus one memorable incident involving pistachios, excess cookies used in the shop, a customer with nut allergies and a hasty trip to the emergency room. Yuugi was a passable cook, but something happened at Christmas that had landed him with the name 'Cookie Monster' throughout December.

This year he hadn't even bought the ingredients. Some traditions, however, needed to be kept.

He resumed the search begun under the stairs that morning. The attic was full of even more junk. He shifted some aside as he hunted, discarding what he didn't want and growing more and more frustrated. He passed over cardboard boxes of useless items; the debris of a childhood alone and an adolescence learning how _not_ to be alone. A fold-out file of school reports made him shudder: years and years of 'Yuugi is a very shy boy who doesn't make friends easily'. He could have made friend super-easily, if they hadn't all thought making fun of his hair, bouncing it and the rest of his head on the asphalt, or trying to flush it down the toilet were all better ideas. The attic also gave up piles of old vinyl records, hopelessly outdated legal documents, some shirts that should've been burned when the 70s ended, and a selection of comic books and manga that might have fetched a lot on eBay.

He paused when he moved a dustsheet and uncovered hangars of old fancy-dress costumes. They came in pairs, obviously meant for couples to complement each other: a pirate and a bar wench, Peter Pan and Tinkerbell, Santa and Mrs. Claus, plus all manner of others.

"Oh my …" Yuugi gaped. He reached out hesitantly to touch the protective plastic. "I … remember these."

These were leftovers from the parties his parents used to attend. They had all happened around holidays and been something to do with his father's work. Grandpa used to come over to babysit. Each time, Yuugi's mother and father would parade their latest outfits through the living room in an impromptu fashion show, asking Yuugi's opinions as if he was a world-famous fashion critic. His mother claimed she wouldn't leave unless she had his approval, before carefully getting into the car so her outfit wouldn't be all crumpled when they arrived at the party. She made all their costumes, not because they couldn't afford store-bought, but because she enjoyed it and was a brilliant seamstress. Thinking up ideas to wear to each themed party gave her hours of pleasure. That was the time before grief sent her back into her career so forcefully she all but forgot she had a son. Nowadays she wouldn't be caught dead sewing sequins or sticking feathers onto headdresses.

It had been the evening of one of those costume parties when their car skidded off the road and somersaulted down an embankment into the canal. Yuugi remembered waiting for them to come home, falling asleep on the couch and waking to unfamiliar voices. The police had been at the front door. When Grandpa came back into the sitting room he'd been pale. Yuugi hadn't known what to think. Grandpa Mutou was a jolly old man, and always had been, but suddenly he looked _ancient_.

Each memory of that horrible night was etched into Yuugi's brain: the way his mother smiled as she wiggled her French maid's duster; his father kissing her and making her squeal, neither knowing he'd be dead an hour later. Yuugi especially remembered the thrumming of rain on the roof and how he had tried to convince himself it had splattered onto jolly Grandpa Mutou's cheeks.

It hurt to look at the costumes, not just because they were a reminder that his mother's secretary had misspelled his name on the Christmas card this year, but because afterwards only one kid at school had treated him like he wasn't made of glass. Sometimes Yuugi's life seemed like a string of tragedies linked by a fine thread of happier times. He moved from one crisis to the next, surviving and picking himself up until the world tried to knock him down again. It used to be he thought he had to do it alone. Nowadays he knew better. Nowadays he had friends, and Grandpa, and Yami. He reminded himself of all he still had as he replaced the dustsheet.

He had felt disconnected for months. It was getting harder and harder, and he had to remind himself of what he had more and more often. An overflowing shoebox kept popping into his head, toppling over in his dreams and spilling its contents across his thoughts until he could barely concentrate. He knew Yami had noticed. He also knew he still couldn't talk about it with anyone. All he could do was push the images aside and try to get on with things as best he could. So far he'd had limited success, but what else could he do?

Yuugi paused again when he opened a box to find a tissue-wrapped trophy he'd won at a Duel Monsters tournament a decade earlier. He had forgotten all about it – perhaps on purpose, since it was one of the first he entered without Yami – but Grandpa had carefully stored it for him anyhow, perhaps knowing that whatever guilt Yuugi ladled on himself for enjoying victory without Yami, he would still want to keep the memento. Grandpa knew him better than he knew himself, it seemed. A pang went through Yuugi. He had so much. He had people who loved him more than he could have imagined. So why did he still feel so cut off?

Yuugi spent a long moment staring at the trophy, remembering the roar of the crowd, the sweetness of a victory all his own, and looking down to see his friends cheering louder than anyone. If it had been possible, they probably would have run onto the field to bombard him with hugs. They knew how much he'd wanted to prove he could cope without Yami in those early days. Yuugi had swung between savouring his new independent life, which he could never have dreamed of when he was still nothing but a bullied nobody gamer freak, and missing Yami so much it actually hurt. Only when Yami returned did Yuugi realise he didn't have to choose between those feelings. Everything had been different back then.

Tears pricked the backs of his eyes. He dragged an arm across his face. He wouldn't cry. Not now. He _wouldn't_. He had promised himself he would stay dry-eyed –

"Yo, Yuugi!" Jounouchi's shout roused him. "Are you done yet?"

"Just looking for the decorations to go on the tree." Yuugi hoped the catch in his voice wasn't noticeable.

"Didn't you hear Mai? We got that covered. Get your butt down here already."

"I'd rather use –"

Another crash echoed. Shizuka cried out. Mai snapped something inaudible but fiery, to which Jounouchi replied in kind.

Yami's hair appeared, followed by the rest of his head. He levered himself over the edge of the ladder and rolled into the attic, briefly peering down at the chaos below. He blinked into the gloom as his eyes readjusted. "Aibou?"

"Over here."

He focussed on Yuugi's crouched figure, half-obscured by boxes. "Are you _hiding_ up here?"

"No, just looking for decorations."

"Even though you've been told there's no need?" His tone didn't hold much conviction.

"I'm looking for some in particular," Yuugi answered a trifle defensively. He was about to explain why he wanted these elusive decorations when the shouting abruptly stopped. It was replaced by impatient chimes from downstairs. Someone was leaning on the doorbell with an insistence usually reserved for the impending apocalypse and sudden, unexpected, everything-must-go sales.

"Well?" Mai said sharply.

"What?" Jounouchi snapped back. "It ain't my house."

"Since when has that ever stopped you?"

"Hey, gimme a break. I'm injured."

"Oh for crying out loud –"

"Yuugi.? Yami?" Shizuka was plaintive. She didn't say 'help', but the implication was clear.

The doorbell continued to ring. Whoever it was would break their finger pressing it so hard and so often.

Yuugi sighed. He seemed to be doing a lot of that today. "Coming," he called, motioning that Yami should descend the ladder ahead of him. "I guess I can look later," he added under his breath, casting a last glance at the attic before leaving both it and its memories behind.

* * *

_To Be Continued …_

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	4. Four Calling Birds

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**4. **

_On the fourth day of Christmas,  
My true love sent to me,  
Four calling birds._

* * *

"Deck the hall with boughs of holly, fa-la-la-la-laaah, la-la-la-laaaah! 'Tis the season to be jolly, fa-la-la-la-laaah, la-la-la-laaaah!"

Yuugi stared at the three figures on his doorstep.

"Don we now our gay apparel," Otogi warbled. He paused. "Is that really the correct translation? I feel mightily exposed singing that line when I'm the only well-dressed male here, and we all know what the common stereotype is for a well-dressed guy amongst your roughneck, jeans-and-a-tee-shirt types."

Yuugi continued to stare.

"Tough crowd. Oh well." Otogi shrugged and threw one arm around Honda's shoulders, extending the other like an opera singer about to regale the street with an aria. "Fa la la, la la la, la la laaaaaah! Troll the ancient yuletide carol, fa-la-la-la-laaah, la-la-la-laaaah!"

Honda threw off the arm. "Are you drunk? I knew you smelled weird when you picked us up."

"It's called cologne. And deodorant. You might want to try the last one sometime. You smell pretty ripe yourself."

"Bite me."

"No matter what the carol makes me sing, I'm not actually gay, so in your dreams." Otogi sighed. "A fine thing when festiveness and spreading good cheer makes people ask if you're inebriated at –" He checked his watch. "- ten in the morning." He lightly punched Honda's shoulder. "You big Scrooge."

Honda rolled his eyes. "He's been singing since he picked us up at Ryou's apartment."

Ryou nodded in agreement. "The traffic was really heavy. Ryuuji drives a Cadillac. A Cadillac is a really enclosed space." His smile was brittle, his hair even frothier than usual. He was the only one who called Otogi by his first name. Since he came from Britain, he was still more comfortable using first names, since over there to use someone's family name even after you got to know them was rude. Additionally, it had been such a momentous thing for him when his friends started calling him by his own first name, he made a point of repaying the compliment even when it wasn't necessary – or asked for. Jounouchi and Honda had both had to tell him to quit using _their_ first names, since only their parents did that.

Otogi rammed his fists against his sides. "Scrooge _and_ Grinch. Where's your holiday spirit?"

"You murdered it when you hit the high notes in Silent Night." Honda looked pleadingly at Yuugi. "Can we come in, man? And please say you've got AC. It's roasting out here."

"Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow –"

"Otogi, we've had our differences over the years, but I consider you a friend, so I hope you take this as a friend should: if you don't stop singing, I'm going to punch your lights out."

Yuugi gestured them into the house and closed the door to keep out the heat – or tried to. In fact, as he pushed the door shut, it caught on the foot that had suddenly appeared on the threshold. Yuugi peered around the frame to see a man in a black suit and sunglasses glaring impassively down at him. He was roughly the size of a cement truck, with a jaw you could have used to grind thumbtacks into paste if you were missing a pestle for your mortar.

"Um, yes?"

The man held out three pink and white striped hatboxes, each one bigger than Yuugi's entire head plus hair. He held them easily, though when Yuugi tried to take the top one he nearly dislocated his shoulders. He struggled, staring at the other two until Otogi reappeared at his shoulder and nodded at the guy.

"Thanks, Jeeves. Just put them down any old place. I can take it from here." He gestured to the step and then kicked the door shut behind the behemoth's retreating form.

"Jeeves? _Jeeves_?" Jounouchi was standing behind them, shaking his head incredulously. "You had your butler bring your … whoa, damn it, what is this stuff? Feels like tubs of concrete."

"Dumb mutt. Jeeves isn't my butler," Otogi said in the voice of one long-used to dealing with cretins, imbeciles and the intellectually challenged. "What do you think I am, a troglodyte?"

Jounouchi blinked. "Yes?" he said hopefully.

"Jeeves is my bodyguard. He was following behind the Caddy because there was no room for him inside."

"I'm not surprised. Did you see the size of that guy?" Jounouchi muttered to Yuugi. "He could've driven you into the ground like a lawn dart, man."

Yuugi wasn't comforted – especially when he flicked back the curtains to see Jeeves sitting in a black 4x4, parked some way down the street. He was little more than a pair of sunglasses pointed straight ahead, expression blank as polished steel. "Is he going to just wait out there like that?"

"It's what I pay him for," Otogi said blithely. "Mostly he's a visual deterrent. There haven't nearly as many attempts on my life in the last year compared to the last. I'm thinking he's a big reason for that. Kidnappers who see him think twice about trying to kidnap and try to ransom me to my company."

"People actually try to do that?"

"More when I was a handsome teenager. I'm getting past it now I'm in my twenties. There are so many younger child business prodigies for them to choose from these days – though none," he added, glancing up from the first box he'd lifted the lid off, "nearly as stylish as I was at their age."

"Are you _sure _you're not gay?" Honda muttered.

Jounouchi peered at the box's contents. "Tree decorations?"

"Yuugi invited me to help decorate his tree, so I brought decorations." Otogi's look fell just short of a glare. "They're from Kyasshu," he added, naming the most expensive store in Domino. Yuugi couldn't have afforded to hire one of their shopping carts, much less put anything in it. Since they had a dress code to shop there, Jounouchi would have been thrown out before he put one grubby sneaker on their side of the revolving door.

Yuugi knew he should be grateful and impressed at Otogi's generosity. He even pasted on an appreciative smile. However, a chill spread through his chest at the sight of the luxurious reams of purple tinsel, gold stars, tassels and beads. Huge furry dice had been made into baubles on shiny thread. Strands of fabric sprinkled with glitter had been laced together and strung with tiny pink and silver bells. An angel with a porcelain face and what looked like real hair stared up from a mass of bubble wrap. Beneath her, Yuugi could see an intricately fashioned Santa Claus riding a reindeer with a jewel-studded bridle. It was all lavishly expensive, but about as classy as a burger and fries – and there was so _much_ of it!

Jounouchi sucked in a breath between his teeth. "Wouldn't want to be you when Mai and Shizuka see all this."

"Why?" asked Otogi.

"Because they went out especially last night and bought a crapload of decorations."

"Where did they get theirs?"

"I dunno. I was just there to lift and carry stuff. They gave me a bag of doughnuts to shut me up and I was happy not to ask questions."

Otogi raised his eyes heavenwards. "Why am I not surprised?"

"That's a rhetorical question, right?"

"Dumb mutt. Whatever they bought, it can't compare to Kyasshu's stock. Don't you agree, Yuugi?" He held up a row of gingerbread men wearing crowns of thorns, a bizarre and unnerving mixture of the various Christian stories behind this holiday.

Yuugi's friends from abroad, most of whom he'd met through Duel Monsters, commented on how Christmas was an even more commercial affair in Japan than in their own countries. They always said this with sadness, which motivated Yuugi to point out that in Japan, Christmas wasn't actually a national holiday, so it was bound to be more about materialism than any religious celebration. Most Japanese people didn't even _know_ the nativity story, and wouldn't see any reason to know it if quizzed. Christmas was about gift-giving, eating special cakes, and visits from Hotei-osho, the Buddhist monk equivalent of Santa, who had eyes in the back of his head so he could watch out for naughty children. Non-Japanese found _that_ story unnerving in the extreme, but to Yuugi and his friends, even though they were too old for Hotei-osho anymore, it was an integral part of their Christmas traditions. Nevertheless, the sorry little gingerbread men pushed the boundaries of good taste to their limit.

"Um …" Yuugi wondered how to voice his opinion without causing offence. And not just his opinion on the gingerbread men. Were those rubies amongst the thorns to simulate drops of blood?

"Kyasshu means quality," Otogi went on without waiting for an answer.

"And tackiness," said Mai, striding down the stairs. Her gaze was rooted on the three boxes. She slid into the argument like a mother tigress guarding her fairy-lit cubs. "Our decorations may be cheaper, but at least they don't make people want to vomit."

"Speak for yourself," Otogi muttered, even though he hadn't actually seen them yet. "Yuugi's tree deserves excellence in its ornaments."

"Exactly."

Jounouchi backed away like he expected them to fly at each other with sharpened fingernails. He caught Yuugi's eye and his eyebrows jumped, noting how Yuugi was barred from getting at the rest of his own home by the two wannabe interior designers. To get away from the front door he'd have to pass between them, which put him right in their line of fire. They would demand him to choose between their decorations, and he would be obliged to give the answer that solved nothing and offended everyone. Compromise had never been a strong suit amongst his friends – not until they'd had time to cool off and see reason.

He sighed. Decorating the tree had seemed such a simple thing when he suggested it. He had wanted a distraction, and had hoped it would be a bonding experience for everyone. They needed that more than ever after the past year. Instead, it was turning out to be far more stressful than he could have anticipated.

"Yuugi, you decide – his tacky garbage or –"

"Or her even tackier garbage!"

Inwardly, Yuugi groaned.

* * *

_To Be Continued …_

* * *

.


	5. Five Gold Rings

.

**

* * *

**

5.

_On the fifth day of Christmas,  
My true love sent to me,  
Five gold rings._

* * *

Shizuka was bending over the hob when Yuugi shut the kitchen door behind him. "Trouble?" The wooden spoon she had been stirring poised above the pan, where something simmered merrily.

"I think they may claw each other's eyes out."

She made a face.

Yuugi covered his own face with his hands. "I only wanted to decorate the tree. Maybe put up some tinsel. That's all. I already did the grocery shopping and decorated the store. This was supposed to be the easy part."

Shizuka turned down the heat, balanced the spoon across the sink faucets and came over to him. "You look like you could use a rest. How much sleep did you get last night?"

"I don't know. A couple hours?"

"Not nearly enough to deal with those guys. I love my brother and Mai, but I'm the first to admit they're volatile when they're together. Especially when they have a project to work on. They can never agree on anything without it turning into a major issue. You should see them at the supermarket. I sometimes wonder how they stay together, or even got together in the first place." Shizuka grinned. She didn't need to go into details on that front. Yuugi already knew the story, as they all did. Jounouchi and Mai stayed together because they loved each other. It was one of those undeniable facts of life: the sun rose in the morning and set in the evening; toast always landed butter-side down; and Jounouchi and Mai argued like cat and dog but were closer than two hands stuck in a Chinese finger-trap.

Yuugi's smile was half-hearted. "It's not them. Or … not just them."

"Oh, right." Shizuka nodded. "Otogi and Honda too. And Ryou's out there, isn't he?"

"No. I mean, Ryou's not the problem. I mean …" Yuugi tried to find the words. How _do _you talk about the elephant in the room? He had been trying for the last hour and a half, while he watched his friends argue over his Christmas tree: first how to get it downstairs, then how to put it back together once it had finished falling down the stairs, then where to put it, then how to decorate it.

This last one had prompted his withdrawal to the kitchen. He wondered whether they'd even noticed he was gone. Would they guess why? He had been trying to tell them all the way through, but he could barely get a word in edgewise. Maybe they were using this as a distraction, as he had planned – something to concentrate on instead of that elephant – but instead of helping Yuugi feel like nothing was missing, he had felt excluded from his own holiday tradition.

Shizuka nodded. For a second he hoped she understood. Shizuka was sensitive. She was also good at observing people.

"I suppose Yami is used to being in charge," she said, proving that, for once, Yuugi's faith in her was misplaced.

Then again maybe it was his own fault. He tried to think what he had said so far today, and realised he'd not been as clear as he needed to be. It had never been necessary before. This was the first year he had asked all his friends over to decorate the tree. Usually it was a job for two. He hadn't realised more than that would cause such a bother. They didn't know the rituals. They didn't understand …

Suddenly Yuugi felt inescapably tired. He allowed himself to be manoeuvred to the kitchen table, where Shizuka pushed him into a chair. She plunked a steaming mug in front of him, seemingly from nowhere.

"Here. Oh, hang on, wait a second."

She bustled about with scissors and a plastic packet from a carrier bag she had brought with her when she arrived. Yuugi thought it held yet more decorations, but this one had apparently contained food.

"My friend from college taught me how to make this properly, instead of just using powdered stuff from a jar."

Yuugi inhaled. "Hot chocolate?"

"With real melted chocolate and full-cream milk. And," she added with a flourish, "marshmallows and chopped nuts." Several landed in his mug. They floated like soft, inviting icebergs. "You're not allergic to nuts, are you?"

"No." Yuugi smiled, remembering the pistachio cookie incident. Something stung his heart, like he had swallowed a wasp. He shook his head and took a sip. He immediately scalded his tongue and snapped his head back in shock.

"It's hot!" Shizuka warned belatedly. Her face registered regret and apology in such measures he thought she might actually cry. No wonder Jounouchi still thought his baby sister needed protecting from the world. Shizuka, however, had proved time and again that she was capable of dealing with whatever life threw at her. She strode across the kitchen to fill a glass with cold water. "Here."

"Hank hoo," Yuugi slurred. "Iss goohd. Reeheey, reehey goohd."

"You like it?" She beamed. "I always think of hot chocolate when I think of Christmas. My mom and I used to have it when I was a kid. Since I wasn't doing any good in there," she nodded at the door to the sitting room, "I figured I may as well be useful and fix some drinks and snacks for everyone." She returned to stirring the mix on the hob. "I loved Christmas when I was little. My mom always made it so special. She'd decorate whatever apartment we were in, even if we'd only lived there a week. We moved around a lot because the doctors for my eyes were scattered across the country. She never complained though, and when December came around she always made everything so pretty. She went the whole hog – a tree, decorations, a specially laid table with a proper tablecloth and a poinsettia as a centrepiece. Always a poinsettia, because someone once told her it's the Christmas flower and brings good luck, and she thought we needed all the good luck we could get if I was going to get better. She even had gold hoops as napkin-rings. I'd wear them on my fingers afterwards, and she'd make a crown for me out of the ribbon around the cake so I could be a Christmas princess." Shizuka's expression turned sad. "She used to cry sometimes. Each Christmas could have been the last one I saw, so she wanted me to have beautiful memories, but at the same time it all made her so sad. She tried to hide it, but I could see well enough that I could tell when she'd been crying." The smile she gave Yuugi was wistful. "I can't talk about this with my brother. Not that he'd start trash-talking Mom or anything, but … y'know. It'd be cruel."

Yuugi had to agree. From what he had learned over the years, Jounouchi's Christmases had consisted of hanging around on street corners waiting for bakeries to reduce their cakes, and then buying two that were just past their best. He would stand around eating one rather than going home, and then carry the other back to the apartment he shared with his father. In the early years after his wife and daughter left, Christmas had been one of the few occasions the man made an effort to actually _be_ a father. There had been only one cake in those years, which they would share. They'd have dinner together, perhaps play cards or watch TV on the same couch, and slice up the special strawberry confection that was essential for a proper Japanese Christmas.

As Jounouchi got older, however, his father stopped trying so hard. He slipped into alcoholism and self-pity so corrosive it blistered him from the inside out worse than the booze. Eventually the Christmas ritual was for Jounouchi to make sure he his dad hadn't choked on his own vomit or swallowed his tongue in a brandy-induced stupor, whereupon he would set out the second cake in the vain hope his father would wake sober enough to re-enact those early memories. He refused to touch this cake alone, which was why he started buying the one he ate outside, otherwise he would never have tasted any all holiday. It was a far cry from the idyllic time with their mother Shizuka had described.

Yuugi agitated his mug to make the marshmallows turn in little circles. He felt uncomfortable. His own childhood memories of Christmas were also a blend of good and bad. That first Christmas after his father died had been the worst; all the grief they'd been getting over was suddenly reawakened by the gaping hole of his absence. Daily life had been hard enough, but his parents had loved Christmas, and especially loved making it fun for their son. Celebrating it without his father just felt wrong. His seat had remained empty at the table, his handwriting gone from the gifts under the tree, and Yuugi had found himself glad to go back to school. There, at least, one person treated him like himself, not The Kid Whose Dad Died and Whose Mom Went Weird.

Something thumped against the sitting room door. It popped ajar.

"You stupid idiot! Now look what you've done!"

"It wasn't my fault! And don't call me an idiot!"

"Well it wasn't my fault either, and you _are_ an idiot!"

Yuugi started to rise but Shizuka waved him back down. "I'll deal with it. You stay there." Without waiting for him to reply she dashed through closed the door behind her. Yuugi knew she meant to shield him from the ruckus, but he felt even more excluded in his own home.

He rested his chin on his arms. Had Christmas always been so stressful? That was one of its defining characteristics, wasn't it – turning normally sane people into raging balls of festive anxiety? Had he just not noticed before, or was this one unusually hectic? It felt out of the ordinary, but maybe that was just him.

Dumb question. It _was_ out of the ordinary, no doubt about that. He'd just hoped it wouldn't be the same kind of special as that first one without his dad. Despite his efforts, another gaping hole had opened up, exactly the same size and shape as a person. No amount of tinsel was going to disguise it, either.

The elephant tromped about, demanding to be noticed. Yuugi closed his eyes, inhaled … and abruptly got to his feet. He left his mug and all but ran to the back staircase. If he went out the front way the others would notice him, but he had lived in this house since he was ten. He was more than capable of slipping out his bedroom window, climbing down the drainpipe and making his escape before anyone could notice what he was up to.

* * *

_To Be Continued …_

* * *

.


	6. Six Geese Laying

.

* * *

**6.**

_On the sixth day of Christmas,  
My true love sent to me,  
Six geese a-laying_.

* * *

When Yuugi was small his father brought him to the canal to feed the ducks. It was one of those pastimes so ordinary it was forgettable until you didn't do it anymore. Feeding the ducks was for little kids, like holding a parent's hand as you crossed the street, or getting dirt wiped off your face with spit. You got away from it as soon as you could, or as soon as the ridicule from bigger kids got to you. You put it out of your mind. You grew up. Then one day you paused in what you were doing with the sudden realisation it had been years since you heard a quack or saved the end of a stale loaf.

Yuugi didn't have any bread with him. He didn't have any money, either. Still, his aimless path led him to the canal. He found himself standing on the bank, watching the ducks and contemplating … well, everything, really. Everything except the stuff that mattered. His thoughts weighed so heavy they seemed to crush the top of his spinal cord from the inside.

"Is life simpler as a duck?" he asked aloud.

One looked up at him quizzically. It swam closer, but retreated when it saw his empty hands.

Yuugi shook his head. "I _must_ be crazy. Did I expect an answer?"

"I think you'd be crazy only if you _did_ hear one, sonny."

He jumped. An old woman had crept upon him. He must have been more distracted that he thought, because she wasn't exactly sprightly. Her gait was shuffling and painful, though she'd hooked her walking stick over one arm instead of using it. She also wore a thick tweed coat in spite of the weather. It was winter and with the tenacity of all old people who liked their routines, she wasn't going to be denied her winter coat, even if it did make her sweat.

"Sonny, you look like a month of wet Sundays," she said bluntly.

"Um …" Yuugi wondered how best to address the statement. Was he expected to reply at all?

Apparently not.

"I hate the holidays too," she sniffed. "All that wanting and having and buying. 'Consumerism' they call it on TV. Makes my stomach ache. Materialistic rubbish. Signs of a declining society, if you ask me – which nobody ever does. And do you know why nobody ever asks me? Because they know I'm right, but they don't want to hear it. Don't want me spoiling their 'Christmas buzz'. Feh. What's a Christmas buzz when it's at home, I ask you? A pack of lies, that's what. Publically sanctioned propaganda. It's all just people trying to be something they're not, celebrating a holiday that isn't theirs, and using it as an excuse to make themselves sick with cake. I ask you, all those strawberries? And you just know the bakeries don't wash them first. It'll all end in tears. It always does. Poor girls crying because they don't have suitors to spend Christmas Eve with, fathers rushing around like mad beasts because they were too late to buy those bloody cakes, children sassing their parents about their gifts – madness, I tell you, total madness!"

Yuugi blinked. His eyeballs had nearly dried out in the fiery tirade. There was a Christmas cynicism, and then there was this lady. She took resentment to a whole new level. "Uh …"

"Humph." The old woman brought out a shopping bag full of bread and old biscuits, most of which was starting to go blue. "Here, sonny." She thrust a huge chunk of stale loaf at him. It weighed practically nothing, but would probably have knocked down the walls of Jericho if fired from a cannon. "Do something selfless for a change."

Yuugi didn't feel like saying he was famous for his self-sacrificing nature – which wasn't always a good thing. Instead, he worked at prizing lumps off the loaf. After a while in the water they softened enough for the ducks to eat. There was a kind of catharsis to the act. The old woman nodded with approval, hurling her own bread like it had offended her.

Some geese and a lone moorhen appeared, drawn by the splashing. They ate their fill, pecking at each other and alternatively honking, quacking and peeping their gratitude – or else they were telling the pair of humans to hurry up with the food.

Soon the bread was all gone. The old woman turned away. "Christmas," she muttered as she went, apparently having forgotten about Yuugi the moment he left her sight. "Ridiculous rubbish. That daughter-in-law of mine makes such a performance about the whole thing. Stupid woman. Cheap trash. My Kazuki could have done so much better than a wannabe-westerner like her …"

Yuugi stood there for a long moment, wondering what had just happened. If this were a story, there would have been some big significance to this encounter. He would have learned a special lesson from the old woman, or had a sudden insight into the meaning of life, or something like that. It would have affected him. Instead, he was left feeling confused and slightly disheartened. Her negativity was like freezing water to the face when you were already damp and cold.

_How could someone so downbeat do something nice like feed the ducks?_

One of life's great mysteries. Well, not a _great _mystery, but a puzzle nonetheless. A _vexing_ puzzle, especially when you were already down in the dumps.

"Sonny!"

His head jerked up. "Um, yes?"

"You agree, don't you?"

He blinked, confused. "Agree with …?"

The old woman frowned at him. "That Christmas is a waste of time. Especially when the emperor's birthday falls so close to it. We should be celebrating that more than _Christmas_." She said the word exactly the same way Yami had said 'junk' only hours ago.

Yuugi's head was instantly filled with memories of past Christmases – himself dinging the bells on the tree with fat toddler fingers; aged five, posing for photos in an ugly sweater; trying vainly to exchange cards at school; the smell of smouldering giblets the first year Grandpa tried to cook and put the turkey in the microwave. Yuugi recalled the atmosphere at school, when even the teachers were infected with Christmas spirit, and the inevitable rush of female classmates to find a date before Christmas Eve, followed by the horror stories afterwards of who they'd settled for. Not all his memories were pleasant, but each struggled for dominance. Most of all he remembered that warm feeling of knowing he was loved through the little gestures, rituals and traditions. Buying the cake. Getting cards from across the world in the mail. Trimming the tree…

There would be no card from America this year. The knowledge sat in his head, hard and lumpily unavoidable.

"It's not a waste of time if you do it right," Yuugi replied hoarsely. "And it's not like everyone forgets the emperor's birthday is on the 23rd. But why settle for only one celebration when Christmas brings people together and makes them feel closer? It's better to celebrate love and kindness than not to, right?"

The old woman frowned deeper. Her hostile expression clearly said: _So you're one of __**them**__. _

"Thank you for the bread," Yuugi added. "It was kind of you to share –"

The gratitude wasn't enough. She unhooked her walking stick to wave at him. "People like you are the reason Japan is going to the dogs. You're why we aren't a great nation anymore. Other countries should be copying _us_, not the other way around. It's disgusting! It's derivative! It's a betrayal of our heritage! You and your generation don't know you're even born!" She continued with her tirade for almost two minutes before she ran out of steam. She rehooked the stick on her wrist, glared daggers at Yuugi and shuffle-stalked away, still muttering.

"And a merry Christmas to you too," Yuugi muttered.

"Honk!" one of the geese agreed.

* * *

_To Be Continued ..._

* * *

….


	7. Seven Swans Swimming

.

* * *

**7.**

_On the seventh day of Christmas,  
My true love sent to me,  
Seven swans a-swimming._

* * *

Yuugi had thought his shop display pretty good, but the storefront for Kyasshu put it to shame. It was like comparing Tokyo Tower to a burning stick shoved into the ground in your backyard. Lights dazzled so much they practically blinded passers-by, music blared from loudspeakers either side of the door, and someone on the marketing team had hit upon the bright idea of piping out the smell of baking mince pies to entice people inside. If one of your senses wasn't assaulted by the display, the others would be, and all to help separate trusting shoppers from their money.

Yuugi wasn't immune. He came towards the window, which featured an elaborate snow scene of a Victorian lake in winter. Male dolls in top hats skated with women in fur coats and long dresses, while on the shore a miniature chestnut-seller glowed with a flickering orange LED. The dolls were dragged along on their metal skates by a series of complicated magnets under the glass ice, carefully disguised by shuss-marks and fake snow. There was even a toy dog playing ball with doll-children, while toy swans nestled regally and waited for a springtime thaw that would never actually come. Spring at Kyasshu would bring the Spring Collection, and this quaint scene would be stored away until next December.

"But Momma, I wanna go in _that_ store!"

Yuugi looked up. Sure enough, a little boy tugged on his mother's arm and pointed at Kyasshu. The woman, looking severely harassed, shook her head and hauled him away. He went as easily as a fifty-pound sack of potatoes.

"But Momma, I don't wanna shop for a new school uniform. I wanna see Santa Claus!"

"Junior, stop yanking on me. You'll dislocate my shoulder."

"But _Momma_ –"

"But nothing. Errands don't stop just because it's Christmas, and you've outgrown your shoes. You'd rather go to school with pinched feet?"

"No, but –"

"Nu-uh! What did I just say?"

"But nothing," the little boy said sullenly. He shot a look at the storefront so filled with longing that Yuugi felt sorry for him. "Can I see Santa after we buy the shoes? Please?"

"No. You need new pants and a shirt, too."

"Can I see him after that?"

"Well …"

"_Please_, Momma?"

His mother bit her lip. "All right. If there's time." Her expression was one of resigned pleasure as her son capered about, whooping, before dragging her off in search of shoes.

Yuugi found himself smiling, too. Christmas was mostly for kids, but that fact was easy to forget until you saw one achieving what the entire holiday was designed for: enjoyment and happiness. That little boy would whizz through his mother's errands to go see an old man in a red suit earn minimum wage pretending to be a mythical figure in a department store. The concept should have been laughable. Instead, it was heart-warming. Nothing made you feel better like the thought of Santa Claus.

Yuugi remembered a time in high school, when he and his friends went into town after final bell. It had been for a variety of reasons – Jounouchi hadn't wanted to go home, Honda's sister and nephew were visiting so neither did he, and they had all realised together it would be their last Christmas together that way. They had spent the waning sunlight wandering around, absorbing the atmosphere. They'd ended in the square, at a stall where you could pay to have your picture taken with a real reindeer.

"C'mon, guys! It's freaking Rudolph!" Jounouchi had insisted.

They had pooled their money, not saying a word about who contributed more, and found they had just enough for a group shot. Donning the antler headbands provided, they'd posed for their photo with childlike enthusiasm. The snapshot had then been copied on the library's colour photocopier so they each had a record of how the reindeer stuck its own antler up Jounouchi's nose the very moment the camera went off. Yuugi didn't think he'd ever laughed as hard as he had that day.

On a whim, he pushed open the door and entered the world of the truly commercial Christmas, hoping it would provoke the holiday spirit he was missing.

* * *

_To Be Continued …_

* * *

.


	8. Eight Maids Milking

.

* * *

**8. **

_On the eighth day of Christmas,  
My true love sent to me,  
Eight maids a-milking._

* * *

Inside the store was even more hectic than outside. People brushed past Yuugi like mines around a submarine, occasionally exploding in sharp elbows and shoves. He was buffeted like something in a pinball machine. When he'd fought his way to the periphery he felt quite bruised and forever sorry for that little metal ball. Yet even that wasn't enough to ruin the effect of walking into a Christmas wonderland.

Garlands festooned the ceiling, lights plastered the walls. Everything glittered and twinkled and shone. Even the carpet seemed extra plush and extra red in honour of the season. Instantly he felt better about his little display at the game store. There was no need to feel inadequate. Kyasshu was in a whole different league. _No_ little family-run shop could hope to compete with the amount of money being pumped into their Christmas marketing bonanza. Festive music and AC cranked up to maximum completed the scene.

Signs guided the way to 'Santa's Grotto'. Yuugi followed them, pausing to examine smaller displays as he went. The glass department especially held his attention. He admired figurines and vases, crystal decanters and ornaments that probably cost more than a week's takings at the shop. His face reflected back at him upside-down, back-to-front, squashed, stretched, and looking nothing like himself. He turned this way and that, testing each surface. Not one of them showed him Yuugi Mutou true to life, just parodies and twisted versions.

A tiny voice in the back of his mind demanded to know what he was doing, wasting time browsing in here while everyone waited for him at home. If they had noticed he was gone, they'd be wondering where. Not one would think to look in here. Maybe that was why he'd chosen it instead of going to the museum, like he usually did when he needed time to think. Or maybe the riptide of fate had hold of him. If that was the case, Yuugi was content to let it was take him where it wanted. Fate had always been an influence in his life. It had brought him friends, a lover, ultimate happiness – but it had also played some excruciating tricks on him this past year. It owed him a little downtime.

The queue for Santa stretched further than Yuugi first realised. Initially he thought it was just another crowd of milling shoppers, but then he realised the children bouncing around were chanting what they were going to ask for like they might forget if they stopped for even a second. Yuugi boggled at the length of the line. He hadn't known kids were capable of such patience.

"Aw, are you lost, honey?"

A tap on his shoulder made him turn. "Huh?"

A lady smiled sympathetically down at him. She was round but tall, dwarfing him in all ways, but her hands were the most delicate Yuugi had ever seen on a woman. Her fingers were tiny and perfectly formed, like a china doll's; at complete odds with the rest of her. Honey blonde hair fell over her shoulders like a curtain of silk. She radiated cheerfulness like a bright light in your eyes, making it hard to concentrate. Yuugi could imagine her in a tutu and wings, waving a wand like the Sugar Plum Fairy after all the sugarplums were eaten.

"Come with me, honey," she said, grabbing his hand. "We'll see if we can't find your Mommy."

"What? No, wait, you don't understand –"

"Don't worry. I saw you looking around for her. You can't see over the crowds from down there, can you? No problem. Just tell me what she looks like and I'll take a gander from up here as well."

Yuugi knew he should feel insulted. This woman had mistaken him for a lost child. He was a grown man who shaved and paid taxes, but she held his palm with protective tightness. He was reminded of the mother and son outside, and the way she'd held onto the boy as if he might wander into traffic if she didn't. He stared at this woman. Sure, he was short, but did he really look like the kind of little kid who needed fussing over by a stranger?

"Um …"

"Don't be scared, sweetheart. Oh, you're probably worried because you don't know me, right? Smart boy. You're clever to be thinking of stranger danger. I tell you what: how about we go visit the attendants at Santa's Grotto so they can put an announcement over the loudspeakers and your Mommy can come get you there. That sound good to you?"

This time Yuugi barely opened his mouth.

"Good. Come along. My name is Miruku, by the way. My son is a little older than you, I think, but he was always getting lost in stores when he was small. The number of times I was reunited with him because of kind people keeping hold of him would make it remiss of me not to do the same for someone else." She chattered away as she towed Yuugi behind her like tin cans on the back of a Just Married car, giving him no chance to argue.

The attendant looked blankly at Yuugi when his saviour presented him to her. "That's not a lost child."

Yuugi breathed a sigh of relief. This would all be sorted out without him having to embarrass anyone. Someone else would do the embarrassing part for him.

"What? Of course he is."

"He's really not." The girl frowned at Yuugi. Her floppy bobble-hat kept flipping into her face as she stared down at him with obvious disapproval, and she kept flipping it back again. He wondered what he had done wrong. Then he found out. "He's one of our – um, I mean _Santa's_ – elves, and he's late for his shift."

* * *

_To Be Continued …_

* * *

.


	9. Nine Ladies Dancing

.

* * *

**9.**

_On the ninth day of Christmas, _

_My true love sent to me,_

_Nine ladies dancing._

* * *

"But I'm telling you, I'm not an employee at this store –"

"Quit buzzing in my ear, will ya? It's bad enough I have to find a spare uniform in your size without having to listen to lame excuses for why you're late and don't have yours with you. Believe me, buddy, I've heard them all: my dog ate it, my mom used it to clean windows, I dropped it on the bus, I dropped it _under _the bus, aliens abducted me and took it hostage – I've heard everything. It's a good thing you look so much the part and they're running short – so to speak – or they'd totally fire your ass, contest or no contest."

Clearly the girl wasn't listening. Yuugi attempted to tell her again, but was unceremoniously shoved into a cubicle with a length of jingly green fabric.

"Here. Change quickly. We don't have all day. The float leaves in, like, negative five minutes. C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!" she added with another shove. "Hustle already!"

"But –"

"You want me to come in and dress you? 'Cause I will. I so totally will. If you're not ready, it's my ass on the line, so don't think I won't do it."

Yuugi hustled. He figured if he could make her stop talking and take proper notice of him for a moment, he could straighten out this whole mess. Ironic that the only way to make the harassed employee pay attention and get him out of there was to obey her orders. Yuugi hesitated only once, then bit the bullet and replaced his jeans with tights in a shade of green too lurid for nature.

"You decent yet?" The girl pulled back the curtain without waiting for a reply. She eyed him critically. "You forgot your hat."

"Listen, there's been some mistake. Just stop for a second and –"

"Here."

The world disappeared as an elf hat lodged unceremoniously over his head. It popped off, repelled by his hair like iron filings with the wrong side of a magnet. The girl tutted and tried again, with the same result.

"Wait –"

"Hold _still_."

She pushed the hat over Yuugi's ears, making him yelp. All his hair was restrained, but such was its texture and size that the traditional pointy elf hat instead stuck out at a dozen crazy angles. The bobble hung forlornly from one spike like it had been skewered.

"You ever think of using some conditioner?" the girl said tartly.

Yuugi's scalp hurt. He tried to scratch under the hat, only to have his fingers slapped away.

"Don't touch or it'll come loose again."

"Ow! Listen –"

"This way."

"Uwah? Wait! Stop! Slow down, please!"

Kyasshu wasn't nearly as impressive behind the scenes. The corridors were dull grey and there wasn't so much as a sliver of tinsel anywhere. The girl's footsteps echoed as she strode along, not listening to Yuugi's protests. She was like a robot, utterly focussed on her goal. Johnny Depp could have leapt from a doorway, naked except for a strategically placed bunch of roses, and she wouldn't have flickered.

"Through here." She bashed open a door. "Yuuryo! Got a live one for you!"

A woman in wire-rimmed spectacles and clutching a clipboard emerged from behind a stack of cardboard boxes. She peered at the girl, then at Yuugi. Her smile was genuinely warm, but fraught. She scribbled something so fast Yuugi half expected smoke to rise off the paper. "Fantastic. Put him with the sugar-based product dispensing unit." She paused to consider Yuugi for a moment. "The non-gelatinous segment."

Yuugi's captor rolled her eyes. "What-everrrr."

"But I –"

"ETA two minutes, people!" yelled the woman in the spectacles. Her hair was coming loose from its bristly ponytail. At some point she had rubbed her eyes; smudges of mascara edged the dip beneath each. If Christmas was the time of giving, she was definitely giving her blood, sweat and tears. "Get into your positions. Santa One is in the Grotto and Santa Two should be arriving here any second -" The door banged open again. "- now. Hi, Noeru. Ready to go?"

"Fuckin' kids," the fat man in the beard and red suit muttered. It wasn't supposed to be possible; you couldn't dress in such a jolly way and look so miserable. Nevertheless, grouchiness oozed from every pore. Yuugi resisted the urge to step away, putting distance between himself and the man's hostility. It crackled like static electricity in the air. "Fuckin' kids," he scowled again.

"Who peed in your cereal?" asked Yuugi's captor. The bells on her shoes jingled merrily, in total counterpoint to her tone.

"Ungrateful little turds. Whiny, crotch-kicking, toe-jam-munching fuckers. I don't get paid enough for this kind of shit."

Yuugi stared. _This_ was supposed to be Santa Claus? Where was the jollity? Where was the laughter? Where was the good humour and the twinkle in his eye? If this guy's eyes were twinkling, it was because they'd glazed over.

The girl shook her head and handed him a furry hat. "Put a sock in it, you old fart. We're all in the same boat. Just dream up a smile and keep it superglued to your mouth until afterwards. Payday soon, remember?"

"How could I forget? That's the only reason I don't strangle all those fuckin' kids." He came to an abrupt stop in front of Yuugi. "Man, the elves in this thing get freakier every damn year."

Yuugi would have felt insulted if there had been time. As it was, he was whisked onto the back of a truck and a bowl of hard candies plonked into his arms before he could so much as protest.

"Just throw them at the crowds as we pass," said the woman in the spectacles. "Try to get an even dispersal and make them last. One circuit of town and then we come back; a three tub quota each to span that distance. If you do run out, just wave and keep up the chatter."

"Chatter?" Yuugi echoed.

"You know." She rotated her hand at the wrist. "Merry Christmas, we're the happy elves, shop at Kyasshu – don't you remember this from the training course?"

"Well no, actually, because –"

"Never mind. It's easy enough. Just watch the others if you get confused." She checked her watch. "Places, everyone! Where the heck is that driver? Why hasn't he started the engine yet?" She vanished in a flurry of anxiety.

Yuugi stared into the bowl. Mint humbugs. Naturally. "Will somebody please _listen_ to me? I'm not a – whoa!"

"Careful, buddy." One of the other elves grabbed his arm to stop him falling as they started to move. "First time in the parade? You'll soon find your feet."

"Parade?" Yuugi tried not to land on his butt as they turned a corner and headed for a large opening, corrugated doorway retracted upwards like a theatre curtain finally allowing its actors on stage. "_The_ Parade? The Domino City Christmas Parade? _That _Parade?"

The other elf looked at him strangely. "Is there any other at this time of year?"

Yuugi couldn't believe it. The Christmas Parade was a convention, upheld for decades. Floats would be sent out in force from stores, charities, private institutions and schools to trawl the streets in a show of Christmas spirit and advertising expertise. It was televised locally, commentaries on the quality of the floats and balloons were broadcast on radio, and bloggers always had a lot to say about it. Entire marketing campaigns could be made or broken by their Christmas Parade effort, and those not looking to sell stuff still hinged their yearly donation intake on getting the word out in the parade. Domino High made their own float each year, receiving sponsorship offers in return. More than once Yuugi had been roped into helping make it, even though he, personally, was never _on_ the Float Committee. He'd never needed to sign up, knowing he wouldn't be able to say no when asked to help because of who was doing the asking …

"You okay, buddy?" the other elf asked in alarm. "You're looking kinda peaky there. You got motion sickness or something?"

"No." Yuugi's breathing hitched in his throat. "I'm … I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. If you upchuck on the crowds, you can kiss goodbye to any repeat employment next year. Sit down on one of the giant snowflakes, quick."

Now there was a sentence you didn't hear every day. Yuugi sat, gripping his bowl tight. He hadn't watched the parade for the last few years. It had never felt quite the same, knowing there would be a Domino High float he hadn't contributed to.

The Kyasshu float this year was a stunning winter wonderland. A giant sleigh sat in the middle, attached to two animatronic reindeer. They tossed their heads and pawed their hooves, as around them boy elves scattered candies bearing the store logo, a phalanx of nine girl elves danced to the strains of 'Deck the Halls', and a now-smiling Santa Claus waved and ho-ho-ho-ed for all he was worth. The transformation from bitter old fart to jolly Saint Nick was astonishing. Likewise Yuugi's own transformation from bewildered out-of-his-depth would-be elf to suddenly grief-stricken lost soul.

"Shit," he heard someone mutter. "I think the new guy's having a breakdown."

Yuugi's cheeks were wet. He tasted salt at the corners of his mouth.

"_Shit_! He's _crying_!"

"He's ruining the atmosphere!"

"Someone put a bag over his head or something."

"Put him in Santa's sack."

"Throw him into the crowd. Maybe they'll think he's a really big candy."

"_Do_ something! We're nearly at the parade route!"

The float slowed and stopped. Yuugi felt hands under his arms. He was hoisted unceremoniously off his perch, and then off the float entirely. His feet touched down. An angry white-whiskered face pressed into his. Santa was gone and the bitter old fart was back.

"Fuck off. The cost of that uniform will come outta your pay if you don't return it, washed _and_ pressed," he snarled. "And if you _ever_ try to screw up my parade float again, I'll rip off your freaky hair and stab you with it. Get it?"

Yuugi didn't reply. He was too busy looking into memories he hadn't needed a Ghost of Christmas Past to summon. He watched as the float he hadn't even wanted to ride left him in its dust.

* * *

_To Be Continued …_

* * *

.


	10. Ten Lords Leaping

.

* * *

**10.**

_On the tenth day of Christmas, _

_My true love sent to me,_

_Ten lords a-leaping._

* * *

It was getting late. Yuugi trailed along the pavement, bells of his costume jingling forlornly. The skin of his cheeks felt tight with dried tears. He had pulled off the hat with some difficulty and used it to mop his face. He wasn't on Kyasshu's payroll anyway, and their actual employees had been almost universally foul to him. Peace on earth and goodwill to all men – yeah right. Their store may have nice decorations, but their generosity ended if you weren't a paying customer.

Eventually he sat down on the steps of the museum. He always seemed to end up here when he was troubled. It drew him subconsciously, even though Yami could tell him more about half the exhibits in the section held most of his interest. To Yuugi, the museum represented optimism and possibility. It was the place where he had bonded with his grandfather in those tentative days they were first learning to live together, and it was there he'd learned about the secret past of the Millennium Puzzle and its precious contents. The museum was a receptacle of memories.

Yuugi sighed and hugged himself as if he was cold. The temperature was dropping, actually, but the chill inside him was the chill of loss. It crept up sometimes, the way all fading bad memories do. It had been months, and life had a way of growing over gaps where people used to be, like the body putting scar tissue over gaping wounds. Like scar tissue, however, what was there now wasn't as strong. It was an ugly reminder that something bad had happened; that a chunk of his life was missing and would never be the same again. He could avoid looking at it, but sooner or later something sent him back to finger the scar and remember the pain of when it was made.

Grief was a series of unexploded landmines. He'd think he was finally coming to terms with things, and then suddenly he'd step on one. Usually it was something innocent that did it – the back of a stranger's head in a crowd, a song on the radio from a long-ago dance recital, the smell of burnt cooking – and he'd spiral away into heartache.

He used to think that if he smiled all the time, things would inevitably get better. It had worked when he was alone and friendless as a child and teen. It had worked when he thought Yami was gone forever. He had remained positive no matter what, and he had ended up with everything he ever wanted. Yet no amount of smiling like a goon was going to fix things for him this time. Yami's miraculous return from the dead wasn't easily repeated.

Yuugi had hoped it would be. He had prayed and begged for another miracle, but apparently you got a set number per lifetime, and he had used up his. He had finally gotten friends. He had broken out of his shell. They had survived countless Shadow Games together. They had saved each other from madness, death, mutilation and heartache – and more. He had lost and regained Yami, who had also lost and regained his memories so he could make the most of his new life without forgetting the old one. He and Yuugi had beaten death to be together, and the happiness he had found in Yami's arms was more than Yuugi could ever have hoped for. He couldn't ask for more.

Yet he still woke every day hoping … and every day he was disappointed. He had learned to conceal that disappointment the moment Yami woke and looked him in the eye. It wasn't that Yuugi wanted to replace him – nothing like that – but surely, after all the times they had saved the world, they had earned a second miracle?

"Why?" he murmured, half to himself, half to whatever higher power chose to listen. "Why give me back him, but then take her? Was it my fault? Was she the price I had to pay to get him back?"

He didn't know how long he sat there. Long enough for the sky to darken and he breeze to pick up. His belly growled. He ignored it. A crowd of businessmen going home from work barely made a dent in his mood. He was too preoccupied to even react when they started an impromptu game of leapfrog, despite all being middle-aged and overweight. More than one landed in a heap, their laughter announcing they'd been drinking before heading home to their wives and children.

"Merrrrrrrrrry Christmaaaaaaaaaaaas!" one yelled at Yuugi. "An' many joyush … joyush … returnsh of da … seeeeeeason." He slumped against his colleague. "I love you, man. Christmas is a time for love, an' friendship, an' … an' I love you."

"Gerroff me!"

"Love ya like a brudder, I mean. NoneathatkinystuffIswear …"

"No, I mean gerroff before I – blaeerugh!"

"Aw, man, all over my shoes!"

"Jump over it. Don't stand in it!"

They left as raucously as they had arrived. Yuugi continued to sit and stare at the pavement.

_A time for love and friendship? _he thought. _But what if your friend isn't around anymore? _

"Yuugi?"

He blinked, raising his eyes to the couple who had stopped. The woman seemed familiar. Something about the shape of her jaw, the timbre of her voice, and the blue of her eyes resonated with him. It clicked a few seconds later – each feature slotting into place like jigsaw pieces. Even her concerned expression was like her daughter's.

"Is that you?" she asked. "What on earth are you doing out here all alone? And why are you dressed like _that_?"

"Uh…" Yuugi couldn't think what to say. He was staring up into the face of Meron Mazaki: Anzu's mother.

* * *

_To Be Continued …_

* * *

.


	11. Eleven Pipers Piping

.

* * *

**11. **

_On the eleventh day of Christmas, _

_My true love sent to me,_

_Eleven pipers piping._

* * *

The coffee was hot and sweet. Yuugi inhaled, since it was still too hot to drink. The scent went a little way to warming him. His backside had gone numb sitting on concrete, and his entire body felt unpleasantly cold. The atmosphere of the little café also helped. The place was shabby. The Christmas decorations had obviously been reinstated from last year, and probably many Christmases prior, but they were lovingly strung everywhere. The waitress hummed along with the carols coming from the little radio on the counter instead of cursing them or making up dirty lyrics.

"Feeling better?" asked Meron.

Yuugi nodded. "Much."

She smiled, but it was tense. Her mouth was a brittle curve that looked like it could snap at any moment.

Yuugi hadn't seen much of Anzu's mother since the funeral. He got the feeling she was avoiding him and his friends, although maybe there was a little of that from him as well. She looked like an older version of Anzu, wearing the wrinkles and other signs of age her daughter would never have the chance to get. It was hard to look at her without comparing them.

The man beside her leaned his elbows on the table of their booth. "So, Yuugi, care to share the story behind that get-up? You were pretty muddled before. Something about an evil Santa tossing you off his sleigh?"

Yuugi's cheeks heated. Ruefully, he recounted the events of the day. When he was finished, the man looked impressed.

"You still don't do things by halves, do you?"

Yuugi regarded him. Omishi was Anzu's stepfather, or would have been if he and her mother had ever married. After the break-up of her first marriage, Meron had been loath to enter another. A single mother for many years, it took a long time for her to relinquish her independence, or try to implant another father figure into Anzu's life. Her fierce independence was one of the reasons Anzu had been so self-confident – or bossy, as Jounouchi preferred to call it. Nonetheless, Meron and Omishi were long-term partners, married in all but name. Anzu had never called him 'dad', but Yuugi knew she had approved of her mother's choice. Unlike a lot of children whose parents remarried, she had been remarkably mature about Meron being with someone other than her father.

_Anzu …_

Another landmine went off under Yuugi's feet. He dropped his gaze to his coffee. It needed creamer. He didn't reach for any.

"You left out why you got so upset on the float," Meron said softly.

Yuugi said nothing.

"Yuugi, don't you have family at home?"

He shrugged.

"Do they know you're out here?"

"I just … needed to get away for a while," he said evasively.

Meron drew a shuddering breath. She understood. Probably more than anyone else, in fact – and she had the courage to say what Yuugi hadn't been able to, the words that had been burrowing into his heart like bot flies. As a child, lonely and in search of something to take his mind off that, Yuugi had tried many hobbies before gaming. For a while he had obsessed over dinosaurs, cars and bugs; all the staples of little boys' minds. He remembered reading about bot flies, which dug into and under your skin to lay their eggs. When the eggs hatched, bot fly larvae squirmed around, eating to grow stronger, and hung on with tiny little barbs so you couldn't pluck them out. You could feel them, you just couldn't get rid of them without major pain. That was what his emotions had felt like for months: squirmy, uncomfortable, painful to confront, yet impossible to ignore no matter how much he tried. Sometimes he wanted to scream. Sometimes he wanted to cry like he had that night he had dinner with Anzu. Sometimes he wanted to just go to sleep and forget everything. Always he wanted someone or something to fix his life and make it all go back to the way it was.

"I miss her too."

Yuugi's hands cramped around his mug.

"It feels like I'm not allowed to enjoy Christmas without her. She loved every little bit of it."

Shizuka's joyous retellling of Christmases past came to Yuugi. Anzu had worn that expression every year, too.

"That was probably her father's influence," Meron went on. "He always made more of Christmas than our neighbours. They used to think we were so strange, but she adored him, and it. Even when he left Japan and went back to America, she didn't lose that love of this holiday. He worried that his leaving would sour her on it, especially when I tried to ban it from our house, but it never did." Meron shook her head. "I was so selfish that first year after he left. Christmas meant so much to my ex-husband, and I really thought I hated him, so by extension I thought I hated Christmas too. I didn't realise how much I was hurting Anzu until I saw what the pair of you had done –"

"I know." The words caught in Yuugi's throat. He had already been friends with Anzu when her father left. She was his only friend, in fact. He recalled the Christmas Meron was talking about with perfect clarity – the first without his own parents, too.

Grandpa had been out front, Yuugi in the kitchen stringing bits of popcorn onto thread, when Anzu turned up at the shop with a trembly smile. Grandpa had ushered her through and she had helped Yuugi make when felt like miles of garlands. It was busywork he had been given to keep him occupied, which served for her as well. They had gone through three bags of kernels, popping them in an ancient popcorn maker Grandpa said he had won in a duel with a friend whose wallet couldn't keep up with his betting. Grandpa had left them alone, needing to get back to the shop and uncomfortable about the memories the season had stirred in him, too.

After he left, Anzu had started to cry. Shocked, Yuugi had patted her arm until she snivelled out the whole sorry story: how her mom had thrown away their decorations; how Christmas had been forbidden at their house; and how dismayed Anzu was that her favourite time of year was being ruined just when she most needed the comfort it brought. Yuugi had sat back on his heels – easy enough since he had to kneel on the chair to reach the tabletop – and an idea had come to him.

The look on Meron's face when she came to get her daughter, coupled with Grandpa's shock, were forever etched into Yuugi's brain. He and Anzu had met them at the door and dragged them both inside.

"I can't stay," Meron had protested. "Anzu, you were very naughty to bother Mr. Mutou like this."

"She was no trouble," Grandpa had hastily assured her, not mentioning how grateful he was Yuugi had a friend to distract him from the anniversary of his father's death.

"Be that as it may, we really should … oh my."

Grandpa had mirrored her words in perfect pitch. "Oh my …"

Yuugi and Anzu ushered them into the warm kitchen to eat the traditional Western Christmas dinner they had secretly prepared. At first Meron had continued to fight against staying, but eventually Grandpa's effusive compliments of their cooking, and Yuugi and Anzu's obvious delight, had made her change her mind. They had eaten in the tiny, cosy room, surrounded by threaded popcorn that was only slightly burned. In the end she and Anzu had stayed the night, curled up together on the couch where Grandpa covered them in a blanket before shushing Yuugi up to bed.

"I remember," Yuugi said thickly. Boy, did he remember. He could still smell the burning popcorn from when Anzu left it in the machine too long. Cookery had never been her best talent.

Meron's face was a picture. Yuugi suspected it matched his own. "After she moved to New York, she made a point of coming home every December when her troupe went into its winter break. She always brought back fresh decorations. Just tokens because of her budget, but she never forgot – one for us and an identical one for you. If she hadn't been so gung-ho about Christmas, I probably wouldn't have bothered after she moved out …" Meron trailed off. "The things we always did when she was … the rituals… they don't feel right without her, do they? She was the driving force. It all seems a bit pointless without her."

Yuugi finally met her eyes. They were shiny with tears.

"I know I can't expect everything to feel the same without her," he said. "That's why I wasn't trying to do things the same. I didn't _want _to act out the same old rituals. I thought if I made new memories … if I did everything a different way, it wouldn't feel so much like something … someone … was missing. Like … there weren't so many huge spaces where she should be. But I was wrong." He blinked back the stinging in his eyes. "The spaces are still there, whether you try to pretend or not. They may be more obvious if you try to do everything the same way you always do, but they're still there even if you don't." He closed his eyes for a long moment. "I m-miss her." There; he had said it.

Meron nodded. "It actually makes me feel better than I'm not the only one who's found that."

Omishi touched her hand. "I'm guessing you both need to talk about this more."

"I'm sorry I haven't been in touch, Yuugi. You and Anzu were always such great friends; it hurt to see you without her. You look sort of … half there. I always thought you two would end up as something more than just friends, but I guess not." For a second Meron blushed, while Yuugi tamped down fresh distress he knew she could never learn. The last letter Anzu had written him would forever be his secret, and his alone. Meron went on, "But that was wrong of me. I shouldn't have held that against you. You have no control over this, or my feelings about it. It's my problem, not yours."

"No more than missing her is just your problem," Yuugi said.

She blinked rapidly. "God, I've been so arrogant. I really did want to contact you. I've tried half a dozen times since the funeral, but I never got further than the last button in your phone number. And after that night I called you over, when you left the house so upset …" She shook her head. "I felt like I didn't have any right to bring you more unhappiness."

That call had been when she found the shoebox. Yuugi recalled with slight embarrassment how he had run out of her house without explanation. He thought he might even have run right past her, but hadn't stopped. "That wasn't your fault."

"Maybe not, but it felt like my fault. If I hadn't called you to come and get that whatever-it-was …" She trailed off, unable to finish her own sentence.

Yuugi thought back to that fateful shoebox and the letter inside. Especially the letter. Anzu had written it just before their last dinner together – also the last time he ever saw her. She had never given it to him. It was an intentional decision. She had wrestled with herself, but eventually chosen not to tell him several painful truths about her feelings for him. After her death, Yuugi had decided to respect her wishes. He hadn't told anyone about it – not even Yami.

If he had never read it, would the pain of losing Anzu be any less?

No, of course not. The letter had opened a can of worms, but they hadn't changed his life. They _hadn't. _Perhaps if Anzu had still been alive there would have been more complications. Knowing her feelings went deeper than friendship might have affected him if he had learned about them sooner, but he hadn't. She had never told him. Though he had agonised over it, Yuugi had come to realise he would dishonour her memory by making a big deal of something she hadn't actually wanted him to know.

A spike of accusation went through him. That wasn't strivctly true. He _had _let it affect him. Maybe he hadn't thrown himself on her grave or shouted her words from a rooftop, but the consequences were there.

Omishi bumped shoulders with Meron. "Didn't I tell you that you don't have a monopoly on grief?"

She bumped back. "I hate it when you're right."

Their little exchange dragged Yuugi back to the present, but also fed into his current thoughts. When was the last time he and Yami touched each other? Or, correction, when had they touched without it being awkward? Yuugi's skin prickled. Meron and Omishi's casual closeness highlighted his own strained relationship, and the reasons behind it. Especially the reasons behind it.

"No you don't. You just hate that I'm right about _this_." Omishi pressed a kiss to Meron's temple and rubbed her arm. "Christmas has been difficult this year," he said to Yuugi. "But I'm guessing it's been just as hard for you."

Yuugi thought about what awaited him at home. "One way or another."

The radio crackled as the cook, a greasy man in an even greasier apron, switched channels to a sports show. The waitress went over in a huff. They exchanged a few brief heated words, and he changed it back. Some tin whistle pop song about kissing under the mistletoe was in full swing. Bizarrely for a song sung in Japanese, several sets of bagpipes kicked in halfway through. The noise resounded around the café louder than the general chatter. The cook rolled his eyes at the waitress, but gave an indulgent smile as she bopped away to take another order.

"You could always come over to our house for Christmas," Meron offered.

"No," Yuugi said, watching the cook and waitress.

The cook had an expression so gooey it could have out-melted a marshmallow. As the song ended, the waitress twirled back to him, slapped the order down, and pressed a kiss to his lips. She had to lean over the counter, and since she wasn't very tall both feet left the ground in a crazy balancing act. She squawked, but the cook caught her and set her back on the correct side. She responded by grabbing his greasy apron and pulling him with her to finish the kiss. Several whoops went up around the café. A couple of construction workers in the corner, still wearing their yellow hats, stamped their feet on the floor in approval.

"I think," Yuugi said, "I ought to go home."

"If you think that's best," Omishi said.

"I do."

"The invitation is an open one, Yuugi," Meron insisted. "Drop by anytime."

"I will," he replied, and meant it.

"Can we at least walk with you back to your store? I haven't seen your grandfather since … well, in a while. He always loved this time of year as much as Anzu did."

"It came from spending so much time in Europe when he was younger," Yuugi said. "They're really big on Christmas over there."

Meron and Omishi insisted on paying for the drinks. Since Yuugi had no money, he let them. They walked together into a breeze that had sprung up seemingly out of nowhere. Yuugi shivered, but both Meron and Omishi were tall. Keeping up with their long strides kept him from getting too chilly.

"Wait," he said when they were passing the museum, quite near the spot they had found him before. He had been so out of it he hadn't noticed the giant tree out front. "What's that about?"

Unlike most Christmas trees, this one hadn't been decorated with baubles and stars. Plain white lights sat amongst the branches. As Yuugi watched, a man and woman approached the attendant at the bottom, handed over some money and took another light. It was as big as the man's head. He twisted the base to make it flare to life, and both he and the woman attached it to a low-hanging branch. Very few hung from higher branches, Yuugi realised. All the lights were within arm's reach.

"It's a wishing tree," said a voice behind him.

"What?" He, Meron and Omishi turned as one to see another attendant in a neon yellow hi-vis vest.

"A wishing tree," the girl said again. She looked high-school-aged, with a blonde bob pushed off her face by a snowman-embroidered headband. "You buy a light and as you hang it you send good wishes to friends and family. The money is for charity. You just put it in that big ol' bucket. See?" She pointed. "As much as you can afford. We don't specify a price for wishing."

"Which charity?" Meron asked, though Yuugi could already see the name on the banner strung across the front of the museum. How had he not _noticed_ before?

_You were too lost in your own grief_, said a little voice in his head. It sounded a lot like Anzu when she thought he was being maudlin, but couldn't bring herself to slap him down for it, as she would have Jounouchi or Honda. _You needed time to see things for what they are, instead of what they aren't anymore. You thought you were alone, so you saw an empty place. Now you know you're not alone, so you can see things as they really are. _He could imagine her leaning in close to whisper, _All things._

"I'm not alone," he murmured.

"What was that, Yuugi?" Meron peered at him. "Did you say something?"

He shook his head, but smiled for what felt like the first time in forever.

* * *

_To Be Continued …_

* * *

.


	12. Twelve Drummers Drumming

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* * *

**12.**

_On the twelfth day of Christmas, _

_My true love sent to me,_

_Twelve drummers drumming._

* * *

The door opened right before Yuugi knocked.

"Where. Have. You. Been?" Yami managed to pronounce each word like a sentence, and make each sentence a threat. He was angry, but more than that, he was worried and covering it with anger. On most people this was a shallow effort. On him it was incandescent.

Yuugi considered his reply. "Lost," he said eventually.

Yami flinched. His expression changed. For a split second Yuugi saw something there he couldn't easily put a name to. Then it was gone again, replaced by the usual vaguely proud chin-tilt. Yami always looked like he was daring the world to take a shot at him. It was one of those things probably only Yuugi noticed, but which seemed so obvious he was surprised nobody else did.

"Did you … find yourself?" The question was ridiculous and badly phrased, but Yuugi knew what Yami meant.

"Mostly."

"We were worried." Yami 's tone became more subdued. He eyed Yuugi speculatively. "You seem different."

"Different how?"

"Less agitated."

"I was gone a long time." Hours. Days. Months. Years. It felt like he had gone back in time. He _had_, in a way.

"I know. We were just about to –"

"Yuugi?" Jounouchi's voice hit Yuugi before the guy himself. They both nearly ended up sprawled on the pavement. Yuugi waved his arms wildly to keep his balance. "Buddy! Where the hell have you _been_? No, seriously, where the fuck did you –"

"There he is!" Shizuka piled out after him. Honda and Ryou brought up the rear. There was no sign of Otogi or Mai. Perhaps they had been twin victims of festive homicide: Tree Rage. "Yuugi! I came back to the kitchen and you were gone."

"She's been beating herself up like crazy. She thought she'd offended you or something." A hint of reproof crept into Jounouchi's voice. "So what's the deal, man? Why'd you go? _Where'd_ you go?" He squinted hard at Yuugi. "And why are you –"

Yami closed a hand around the back of Jounouchi's collar. He didn't have to yank. Just the movement was enough. Jounouchi grunted and got off Yuugi.

"I'm sorry, guys," Yuugi apologised. "I just needed some alone time."

"Buddy, alone time is fine. We've all been there." Honda folded his arms. "But for us, randomly disappearing like that can mean anything from a freak-out to abduction by some weird magical cult. Our track record isn't great."

"I didn't think. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise." Yami was firm; almost stern. "The important thing is that you are all right and have come back."

_To me_. He didn't say the last two words, but Yuugi heard them in his head. It wasn't the soul-bond, yet it might as well have been. The look in Yami's eyes was something reserved solely for him, as clear as water and just as necessary.

Suddenly the past few months faded in Yuugi's mind. They didn't become any less important, but the realisation that he had come to in the café rose in place of the guilt he hadn't even realised he was carrying. He drew closer to Yami, reached out and laced the fingers of one hand. It felt solid and real, not at all like someone who had bargained his way out of the underworld. Yuugi marvelled at that for a moment, before raising his gaze to meet Yami's and reading the question there.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

This time Yami didn't chastise him. Maybe he sensed there was more to the apology than just what had happened today. They had fallen out of tune since Yuugi found that shoebox and started pulling away from their relationship, bottling up his worries and self-induced burdens like he used to as a teen. He hadn't even realised what he was doing, which had made it that much more insidious – and dangerous. Now Yuugi felt something click back into place. He hadn't forced it. Quite the opposite. He had let go of something tight inside his chest, and everything resonated back into place like water as ripples dissipate across its surface.

"Check out the lovebirds." Otogi's catcall drew them back to the present. He had emerged from the hallway in time to see their moment.

"Dry up, Otogi," said Honda. "You're just jealous because _you_ don't have a date for Christmas."

"Yeah," Jounouchi chimed in. The opportunity to taunt Otogi was too tempting. "What's the matter: are all your buddies already busy getting their stockings filled?"

Otogi's eyes flashed. "Besides the fact that's both crass and _incredibly _offensive, why does nobody believe I'm not gay?"

"Because you dress so fabulously." Jounouchi flicked his hand as if clutching an invisible fan. "Dahlink."

Honda picked up the mockery like a baton in a relay. "Because of your winsome charms."

"Because you call orange 'burnt umber'"

"Because you use a scrunchie to tie back your hair after a shower."

"Because you can name the current top five fashion designers in the world."

"Because you drink strawberry daiquiris instead of beer."

"Because you not only own a handbag, but actually use it. In public!"

"It's called a manbag, and it's useful!" Otogi threw up his hands. "And you just described me like I'm a walking stereotype. You just want me to be gay because it would be convenient: that way you wouldn't have to worry about me running away with Shizuka's heart or being the best-looking, best-dressed man of the group. You want me to be gay because it'd make you feel better about your own shortcomings; like you wouldn't have to measure up because, hey, he's gay, so different rules apply to him."

"Whatever, dude." Honda shook his head. "As for Shizuka, she never picked either of us over all these years. I don't think it's on the cards in our immediate future." He caught Jounouchi's eye. "What?"

"How do you know he uses a scrunchie after a shower?"

Honda opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Mai. She appeared behind him like a vengeful spirit of Christmas Kept Waiting. "And where do you get off discussing Shizuka's love life like she's not standing right next to you? She's not a piece of meat, you know." She tossed her head imperiously and looked at Shizuka. "Seriously, sweetie, you want me to smack these bozos? I'll do it. You know I'm good for it."

"It's fine, Mai," Shizuka said.

"Well, okay, but the offer stands." Mai looked around until her eyes settled on Yuugi. "You guys were supposed to fetch him inside, not stand on the doorstep." She shivered. "When did it get so cold? He's probably freezing. Yuugi, come inside."

"Just do as she says, dude," Jounouchi advised. "It's safer."

"I heard that."

He put his head down and followed.

Yuugi went after them, not letting go of Yami's hand. His grip tightened and his mouth opened when he saw what had happened while he was gone. He gazed at Yami, who nodded without expression.

"You found them?"

"I called the senior centre."

"You used a phone?" Yami could master gaming technology inside five minutes but still thought phones were a tool of the devil. He avoided using them wherever he could.

"I asked Grandpa where he stored the box of decorations from last year. As soon as I mentioned it, he knew why."

"Sorry, man." Jounouchi stuck his hands in his pockets. "We didn't know this was, um … I mean, we realised you never asked us over to help you trim your tree before, but we just figured … um …"

Yuugi finally loosed Yam i's hand . He approached the Christmas tree with reverence. It had been set up ion a corner of the sitting room. It wasn't regal, or magnificent, or stately. It was a scruffy, amateur thing: plastic branches covered in fake plastic snow, hinged so they would fold away later. Yet there was something special about it, and the childish decorations draped over and around the fake pine needles. Strings of varnished popcorn, paperchains, angel hair, glittery tinsel that had lost most of its glitter: Yuugi remembered each and every piece. His breath caught in his throat.

"Every year, since we were ten," he murmured, "Anzu would come over and we'd decorate the tree together. We made things in school and would add a piece to the old stuff, which always needed repairing after a year in storage. It was a tradition. We called it the Triple R: repair, redecorate, remember." Remember his parents. Remember her father, far away in America. Remember what Christmas was all about. Remember things they were grateful for in the past year and hoped for in the coming one. He touched a paperchain stuck together with fresh sticky-tape. It shone glossily in the fairylights, reflecting Yami's face. "You remembered."

"It was important to you, Aibou." Yami shrugged as if indifferent, but came up and retook Yuugi's hand. "I miss her too," he said softly. Only four words, but the admission was shocking.

If Yuugi rarely talked about Anzu, Yami was silent on the subject. Whether he sensed Yuugi was keeping something from him, or for his own reasons, Yami didn't bring up her name or recall memories of their friendship out loud. He became brooding when the conversation turned that way, and since Yuugi had his own reasons for not wanting to talk about her, he had let it slide. He knew now that was wrong. He _should _have talked about her more, if only to let the self-contained Yami grieve too. That tentative grip of his hand now told Yuugi more than words ever could about how Yami really felt – and about his own selfishness. He didn't have a monopoly on grief, and he shouldn't have let his own hang-ups interfere with either their relationship, or Yami's emotional health.

"Come with me," Yuugi said suddenly. "All of you. I need you to come with me. Now."

"Yuugi?" Jounouchi was baffled. He looked between his best friend and the others, who wore similar expressions. "Is this the second half of your freak-out?"

"I'm not freaking out; I just need you to come with me."

"Um …"

"Where?" Shizuka asked.

"We just got done with the tree," Otogi protested at the same time.

"Trust me," said Yuugi, "this is important."

Jounouchi eyed him. Then he extracted his hands from his pockets. "Okay, buddy. But where are we going?"

Yuugi smiled. "You'll see."

* * *

"This was a great idea, Yuugi," said Shizuka.

"Tasteful," Otogi agreed. "Very … tasteful." In any other situation, he might have laughed at the idea of decorating half a tree with plain white lights, in no discernable pattern or in any kind of order. In this one, however, it was entirely appropriate.

The attendant Yuugi had spoken to earlier gave him a thumbs-up. "I wondered if we'd see you again."

"Why?" he asked, curious.

"You can usually tell when people have more to say than just a basic 'I hope this person is happy this year'." She gestured at the white lights, and at where Mai and Jounouchi were hanging a new one on the far side. "It's great that you brought your pals. The more people who get on board with this, the better. If we make this viable, it means we can come back next year as well."

Next year. The prospect of a new Christmas ritual struck Yuugi as fitting.

"I remember," Jounouchi declared once he had affixed the light, "when I made a bet with Anzu over who would score higher in the end-of-semester exams –"

"When you _lost _a bet, you mean," Mai corrected. She hadn't been there, but anyone who knew them could predict the outcome of that particular bet.

Jounouchi scowled. "Okay, okay, when I_ lost _a bet over who would score higher in the end-of-semester exams, and as forfeit Anzu made me test out all her cooking experiments for a week." He grimaced. "I didn't think my mouth would ever recover."

"Serves you right," Mai said, though she was smiling. Her expression turned wistful as she provided her own memory. "I remember the first time I met you guys at Duellist Kingdom, and Anzu got herself clean in the foldaway shower I'd brought. I had to drag you perverts away because you'd turned into drooling testosterone-crazed idiots at the merest hint of nudity. She would have hurt you way more if she'd caught you."

"I know," said Ryou with a wince. "When we had to scale the castle walls, she went ahead of Honda and me."

"I was being gallant!" Honda put in.

Ryou nodded. "She made us wear blindfolds so we couldn't see up her skirt."

"Blindfolds while climbing a sheer wall with nothing between us and a messy end but empty air, a good grip and a lot of luck." Honda shuddered. "No amount of perversion is worth that. Hey, do you remember when she conned us into helping out with the summer fete? She promised us hotdogs and hamburgers, but didn't tell us we'd be serving them to everyone else!"

"It was all in a good cause," Ryou tried to protest.

"It was baking hot weather and we were stuck in a kitchen with all the ovens on full blast," Jounouchi deadpanned.

"I remember the fete made a lot of money for the school that year."

"Yeah, because all the guys turned up to see her sweat her way through her tee-shirt."

"Which proves she worked just as hard as you. I recall she also organised a drum section for the school marching band when they ran short, and spent all her time running about, making sure you guys had enough water that you didn't dehydrate, while also making sure twelve capricious drummers stayed with the band even when it got hot enough to fry eggs on the cymbals."

"Hey, dude, you're a guy. You're supposed to be on our side!"

"She was always getting involved in some good cause or other," Honda mused. "Remember the sponsored silence?"

"Do I ever! An entire day without her badgering us." Jounouchi grinned. Then his expression wavered. "Y'know, I know it's healthy for us to be doing this, but man …" He didn't need to finish the thought.

Yuugi listened, letting their words wash over him in a haze of memories and evocations of happy times. When Jounouchi said this, he finally spoke. "We all miss her."

They made noises of assent.

"But that just proves how much she was loved." Shizuka flushed slightly, and not from the brisk chill in the air. "Is that too schmaltzy."

"Nah." Jounouchi wrapped an arm around her. "It's Christmas. Being schmaltzy isn't just allowed, it's encouraged."

"Idiot." Mai put her arm around him in turn. "How is it you can be so dense, and yet still manage to say the right thing at the right moment?"

"I'm just a misunderstood genius, I guess."

"Idiot," she said again, but through a smile.

Yuugi watched them, their closeness, and the old familiar pang started in his chest. He grounded himself with the feel of Yami's hand. Death and grief were sobering, and could drag you under if you let them. He nearly had, and just as Anzu and her friendship had dragged him back after his parents' accident, so now had his loved ones brought him back from the edge he had been balancing on after losing her.

"This really was a good idea," said Otogi. "My company makes donations to all sorts of charities, but there's something about getting involved personally like that that makes it seem more …" He searched for the right word. "Tangible," he finally settled on. "Don't you think, Jeeves?"

His stoic bodyguard only grunted.

"Here." The attendant was back. "You each get one of these for contributing." She handed out small metal pins bearing the same logo as was written across her vest. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Yami said solemnly. He held up two pins; one for himself and one for Yuugi. "Aibou?"

Yuugi wondered what he meant. Then he realised. "Go ahead."

Carefully, Yami attached the pin to the front of Yuugi's jacket. It read 'Macmillan Cancer Support: International Division'. "A most worthy cause," Yami stated once he had finished and attached his own pin.

Yuugi contemplated their group, who each wore the pins, though Jounouchi was dancing about, sucking his finger and saying something about blood poisoning while Mai and Shizuka exchanged looks. Their group wasn't complete – would never be so again – but the gap where Anzu should have been wasn't as painful as it had been when he got up that morning. Things weren't all better, but for the first time, they were getting there.

Were the bright days with Anzu really worth the pain he had felt since her death?

"Of course they were."

"What was that, Aibou?"

Yuugi hadn't realised he had spoken out loud until he caught Yami looking at his questioningly. "Never mind," he said. "Just talking to myself."

"You can be very strange sometimes." Yami bent to kiss him. "But I am glad you are who you are. You have not been for some time."

"Sorry."

"Do not apologise. I already told you that. If Anzu was here –" He stopped out of habit.

"She'd tell me I was being overemotional and get me involved in some worthy cause to take my mind off it," Yuugi finished. He gestured at the tree. "I think this qualifies.

"We should come again next year," Yami said pensively.

Yuugi drew close. A lot could happen in a year. He knew that all too well. It felt good to have a new tradition to look forward to. "Yeah," he murmured. "Next year."

A cold breeze blew through the square. Impossibly, something small and white fell out of the cloud above them. It drifted hesitantly, as if worrying about the reception it would get.

"I don't believe it," Jounouchi gaped. "I don't frigging believe it."

"But the weatherman never said anything about snow!" said Otogi.

"Like we're any strangers to miracles or the impossible?" Honda said dryly.

"Merry Christmas, guys," said Yuugi, and as they mirrored his words in reply, he murmured softly, "Merry Christmas, Anzu."

* * *

_**Fin. **_

* * *

.


End file.
